The Empty Hammock (24 page)

“Told you,” Ana said exasperatedly, “six hundred will return to Spain after this trip.”

“I am returning now,” he leaned over her and lightly touched the tip of her breast, “with you,” His voice turned husky and he touched her cheek, “no cat and mouse games.”

“Juan,” Pablo shouted from outside the door.

Juan straightened up. “I’ll be back.”

“There are ten of their little boats following us.”

“Why would they do that?” Juan asked irritated. “Did we need to do some goodbye rites or something?”

Pablo looked at his friend exasperated. “No…but you have the Chief’s woman.”

“She’s mine,” Juan said sullenly.

“What should we do then?” Pablo asked gently, pacifying his friend.

“Let me go,” Ana said from behind them, “they will follow you until you do.”

“Never,” Juan growled,” they will get tired and turn back, or die at sea.”

Ana rolled her eyes, this is so fifteenth century. Clingy, possessive man, with not an ounce of sense. “Look, I really don’t like masochistic men; I prefer them sensitive and caring.”

Pablo had his mouth opened, “I…I...”

“Oh, shut up,” Ana grated angrily. “And let me off this groaning ship!”

“It’s the wind that causes the boards to squeak.” Juan ran his hand through his hair. “I can’t let you go; my heart is engaged.”

“Disengage it,” Ana said flatly. “While this was fun, I’m not in the mood for an elaborate adventure. Let me off so I can go back to that hammock under the palm trees and sleep. Hopefully I’ll wake up in the wonderful days of two thousand and seven.”

When Pablo exited the cabin and shut the door, it reminded them that he was there.

Ana crossed her arms and looked at Juan with venom. “You are despicable.”

Juan nodded and hauled her to him; he slanted his mouth over hers.

Ana leaned toward him weakly. “Juan it will not work. I can’t love you. I will not.”

CHAPTER THIRTY

They traveled for three days on the ship that Juan called El Dragón. She ate with the sailors who did not seem to mind her presence. There were other Arawak women on board the ship too. Some of them did not speak Taino, but spoke a language that was clearly different in form. Ana had a hard time understanding them.

Juan hardly allowed her to leave his cabin, except for meal times when he insisted that she stay close to him. He mostly kept her in the bunk bed that was nailed onto the ship’s floor. Ana refused to admit how much she was enjoying herself with the enemy. She just lived each day as it came.

Juan questioned her about history and the future.  He liked to sit by his desk and rub his bare chest his green eyes sparkling. “Tell me more about the French and the Spanish; what are computers?”

During the three days they didn’t talk a great deal, instead they gave into the unquenchable thirst for each other. Pablo would come into the cabin at intervals and look at her in wonder before Juan would shuffle him out.

On the evening of the third day, Pablo alerted Juan that the canoes were still following them.

“They are quite near to us now, should I tell the men to aim and shoot them?”

“No,” Ana yelped.

Juan looked at her and his heart softened, this was something he was going to have to solve without hurting her people, or else she would never forgive him. Her feelings mattered to him more than anything else.

They became quiet when there was a loud roar of thunder.

“It’s going to rain,” Ana murmured, “I hope Orocobix and the others will be alright.”

“If they all drowned, it would solve the problem of you thinking of him.”

“That’s heartless,” Ana scowled, “besides I still have feelings for him.”

“Then stop.” Juan growled.

Lightning illuminated the cabin and Ana could hear the rain as it lashed the deck. The wind started to roar in earnest and Juan hurriedly put on his clothes, “I am going on deck to help the men secure the sails.”

Ana’s eyes widened in the semi-darkness. He gave her a hard kiss on the mouth and stormed out of the cabin.

The cold air that followed his exit made her shiver and she pulled on one of his shirts. The material was slightly coarse. Instead of cowering in a corner, as was her natural tendency when there was a storm, Ana found herself struggling against the wind as she crawled onto the deck. The sky was dark and the rain was pouring down in sheets. She was soaked instantly. She could barely make out the shapes of the different men on deck as they ran to secure sails and opened round barrels to catch rainwater. The sea was angry and gray and leapt up the sides of the ship.

“Ana get away from the rail!” Juan shouted, but his voice sounded faint in the wind. Ana leaned over and tried to make out the shapes of Orocobix and his men as they battled with the elements.

“Ana!” Juan’s frantic voice was hoarse.

She spun around losing her balance as one particular wave closed its wet arms over her body. She fell into the churning sea.

The current carried her unconscious body close to the canoes. Orocobix instinctively recognized that the limp body bobbing on the waves was Ana. He safely hauled her over to his canoe while the other men were busy bailing out water.  

He leaned over her and tears streamed down his face. “Ana,” he pumped her chest, “say something.”

Water spewed from her mouth; she coughed and opened her eyes a little—the rains forced her to close them again. Her lungs felt as if they were burning up, she coughed again and got some ease. The rain continued to pelt them as the evening light waned and turned into pitch darkness.

The men in the canoe battled the elements bravely.

“Let’s go home to Yamaye,” Orocobix said gruffly. He had gotten a scare, but she was alive and pain that he felt, when she went missing, was slowly going away. He looked at her still body in the night. He hugged her slick, wet body to his and her head lolled weakly against his shoulders. “You are still mine.”

******

Juan ran to the spot where he had last seen Ana, the visibility was poor and he wondered if she had really fell overboard or had moved and went back to the cabin. Let her be in the cabin, he prayed. Let her be in the cabin.

He raced into the cabin but she was not there, so he went back to the deck.

“Pablo,” he shouted, his voice breaking in the wind, “she went overboard.”

Pablo came running at the sound of pain in Juan’s voice. “What is it?”

“She went overboard. I have to go and get her.”

“No,” Pablo shouted and grabbed Juan’s hand. “You can’t go, if she went overboard she is dead now.”

Juan shuddered. “No, I have to find her, she has to be safe. I have to find her.” He was trembling.

“Help,” Pablo shouted, as Juan struggled to get out of his grasp. Three men ran to his side to prevent a grief-stricken Juan Perez from diving in search of his beloved.

Meanwhile, the ship went off course and they struggled to sail for the rest of the night.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Ana snuggled in the hammock in Orocobix’s hut, her journey back to the village was strangely quiet—it took them almost five days to reach Bieke; surprisingly the storm had helped by pushing the canoes to the coast of Jamaica.

She barely remembered the journey back. She was just numb and felt detached from the people around her. Basila had touched her hair and Ana’s eyes swelled with tears; it was as if she was seeing her through a haze.

Tanama stood with the other women and she smiled reluctantly at Ana. Orocobix’s hands clutched her shoulder as he stared at her sadly.

“Why are you so sad?” Ana asked accusingly. “I am here aren’t I? You came back for me. You kept your promise that you would never let me go.”

Orocobix hung over her and kissed her gently. The hammock swung as he leaned over her, his bronzed features strong and handsome.

“We are leaving this site tomorrow,” Orocobix said, swallowing. “We will move to the hills that you said would be a good place to be.”

Ana nodded, she was seeing him fuzzily now. Her eyes could barely stay open. She was tired…so tired.

“Thank you,” Orocobix whispered, touching her forehead.

“For what?” Ana asked curiously

“For saving our people and showing us the way.”

“I am not worthy of your thanks,” Ana said, thinking of Juan, her attraction to him, and the days she spent in his arms.

She would always wonder if he was going to be okay. She would always remember how it was with him. It was just not meant to be—the green-eyed Spaniard and the Taino girl. Tears seeped through her lashes and slowly inched their way down her cheeks.

“I am sorry,” she whispered to Orocobix, “I am so sorry.”

Orocobix was silent his brown eyes wise, he had an idea what she was talking about. She was sorry that she had gone off with the Spanish man but that did not daunt him, he refused to think about it. He loved Ana and he wanted her with him forever.

“I know,” he kissed her lips and watched as she wearily closed her eyes.

She fell asleep and he silently left the hut to prepare for the journey to the hills. He would ensure that there was no evidence of them having lived there. When the strangers came back there would be no trace of the people of Bieke. It would be as if they never existed.

He looked toward the hills and sighed, a new way of life, but surely they could manage, anything would be better than the terror that Ana said would be in store for them, if they stayed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

“Stop tying up yourself in the sheets,” Carey said close to her ear. “I just wanted you to know that the welder is coming at eleven, and you will get to see your much-awaited treasure.”

“Carey?” Ana struggled to get from under the blankets surrounding her, she was in her old bedroom at her mother’s house. There was a pale sliver of sunshine casting a pattern on her bed.

Carey was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt with its collar opened. Ana had to adjust from the sight of naked people and people dressed in old-fashioned costumes in her dreams. Her dreams!

“Oh no, not again,” she snuggled under the covers.

“Don’t tell me that I slept for three whole days.”

“Mmmm,” Carey murmured, looking at his disheveled sister. “You barely ate and you did not bathe.”

Ana groaned. “How do I look?”

“Like hell,” Carey laughed, “and you smell even worse. You must never run yourself this ragged over work again—life is too short. I think its time to wake up though.”

“It probably is,” Ana said smiling to herself. The people of Bieke will be free, if they followed her advice. Then she frowned and realized that she actually believed her dream was real.

“Breakfast in half hour,” Clara stuck her head through the door and looked at her daughter. “The dead has awakened.”

Ana nodded and Clara left the room.

“Carey,” Ana asked softly, “what would you think if I told you I went back in the past?”

Carey ran his fingers through his hair and looked at her enquiringly. “Did you?”

Ana nodded.

“I would call Peter Shingles, my colleague who deals with psychosis, and ask him to see you on Monday. He treated Dad.”

Ana threw a pillow at him. “I really went back, dreams are not so vivid.”

“I thought you were just being tired when you woke up the other night and said so, but it’s not possible. Not in our realm of reality.”

“I know whose treasure chest we will be opening. I met him.”

“You also told me you married a chief.” Carey placed his hand on her forehead and exhaled, “you are not running a temperature. I can thus rule out fever- induced hallucinations.”

“His name is Juan Perez. He kidnapped me from Orocobix, my husband…the Taino Chief.”

Carey was shaking his head ruefully. “Ana you could not possibly know the name of the person who buried that chest…I’m beginning to think that you have more deep-seated issues than I realized.”

“I want to go back. I want to know what happened to the people of Bieke. What happened to Orocobix and Juan? Are Tainos in Jamaica today?” she asked anxiously.

“Nothing has changed since you went to sleep, Ana. World events are the same.” Carey took out his cell phone and looked at his sister, “go get cleaned up, I am going to call Peter now to ask him about Monday.”

“I am not crazy,” Ana stated emphatically, “I don’t need a psychologist to be analyzing me. I saved the people. I showed them the way. That’s what Dad wanted to do and never did, so I accomplished the mission.”

Ana got up from the bed and stared at herself in the mirror, this was her face. Heart-shaped and golden-skinned with wide hazel eyes. She wasn’t a Taino. She must be going crazy.

Did anyone else dream so vividly?

Was she really behaving like her father, who died thinking he saw the past and that he had a mission to accomplish?